


Family Values

by MixMouth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixMouth/pseuds/MixMouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dramatic irony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"For only three payments of $19.95-"

"Come on, Sponge-"

"Since 1963-"

You flicked through channels mindlessly. Pointless cartoons. Obscene amounts of commercials with too-smiley salesmen trying to convince you to buy useless things that'll break in two weeks. _Real_ housewives with their orange skin and hot pink talons screaming at each other about alcohol and their stupidly rich husbands.

It occurred to you just how terrible humanity really is. A whole bunch of evolved orangutans that would rather build a new mini mall than consider the fact that they're killing off their own planet to make a quick buck.  Not that you were some kind of eco-freak or anything. Just imagine what would happen if some hail of meteors came and KO-ed Earth suddenly. Maybe the only surviving representative of your species would be some long-dead asshole's DVR. Perhaps some alien with a taste for archaeology would stumble across it in the far future. The history of your people would be told by Red Bull and Breaking Bad.

It occurred to you just how much of a cynical douche you were.

There was fuck-all to watch, not like you cared. You settled for teleshopping. Listening to the monotonous disembodied voice drone on about classic dining sets and exquisite glassware was a sure way to make you fall asleep. That, of course, wouldn't be a bad thing. You prided yourself with the title of _Night Owl._ Honestly, though. You were pretty sure you just developed minor insomnia from your whack sleep schedule. You still had bragging rights, however, and you weren't going to complain.

It didn't take long for you to doze off, oddly enough.

You turned down the volume on the TV and reclined on your rickety old futon for some well-deserved Zs.

You were just on the brink of sleep when the front door to your apartment slammed. You heard Dave throw his backpack onto the floor. He shut the door quietly, you noted. Apparently he had a few shreds of respect left for you after all.

You stood and stretched. Your left hand smacked into the ceiling fan.

"Shit," you murmured, bringing your arm back down and inspecting your hand briefly for damage.

When you looked back up Dave wasn't there anymore. He'd moved his stuff out of the way and had then fled to his room apparently.

That ass. You'd gotten up to roll out the welcome wagon and thank him graciously for your rude awakening but it appeared as though he had other plans. He might've just had a rough time at school today.

Or maybe he just wasn't in the mood to put up with your bullshit.

He probably just had a bad day at school, you decided.

He's been pretty damn reclusive lately, though...

A bad week.

He fights with you more often too...

Maybe a bad month.

You decided to order pizza to celebrate the grand nothing you'd accomplished today. You figured Dave should have a say in whatever you ordered too since, well, it wasn't like he was going to manage to scrape together an alternate meal from your bare kitchen.

And here you were, standing in the hallway in front of the door to his room, hand poised to knock, hesitating.

He'd probably tell you to go away, that he didn't care what you ordered, that he wasn't hungry anyway. You weren't really up for an argument with Dave's door today. You figured that you'd just go in without knocking and spare yourself the trouble.

You were. after all, a considerate brother merely asking what Dave wanted on his pizza. He can't just scream at you without reason.

"Hey, Dave?" you opened the door and stepped into his room.

"What?"

He was on his bed sitting with a scattering of Polaroid photographs in front of him. His shades were off. He was glaring at you.

"I was going to order pizza-"

"That's cool," he cut you off.

The brat shtick was beginning to annoy you. You leaned against the door frame and glared right back at him.

"You mind droppin' that sass for a minute or two and telling me what you want to eat? I'm all for letting you starve but I'm pretty sure CPS would jump me for that."

"Whatever you want," he sighed.

"Dave?"

"What?"

He was getting pretty pissed at you. You decided to stop badgering him with your stupidity.

"What's up with you?"

His brows drew together and he regarded you for a second.

"Nothing," he said.

"So, is it just your crazy teenage hormones kicking in or are some dweebs at school bugging you because I am totally prepared to step in and castrate some-"

" _Bro,_ " he cut you off again.

You were annoying him.

"Just cheese then. Okay. Cool," you left, shutting the door behind you.

That entire conversation was a minefield and you were pretty sure you made all the wrong moves. Dammit. When did ordering pizza become such a pain in the ass?

You picked your phone up of the counter and dialed up the pizza place.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes or less," the guy on the phone had said.

That gave Dave twenty minutes or less to think about your incompetence as a brother.

You sat back down on the futon and stared at the TV screen.

You'd raised a brat, hand't you? Were you really that inept at parenting? Dave hated you now for some mysterious reason. Where did you go wrong? The kid had pretty much adored you not three months ago. Adoration became tolerance. Tolerance became annoyance. Annoyance became hate.

Teenagers were so damn confusing.

You wished he would talk to you again. It's boring as hell around here without the usual flow of witty banter and wicked battles to the death. Well, battles till Dave collapsed from exhaustion and you pranced around calling him a wimp.

At least it was Friday. You wouldn't have to go back to your lame job until Monday. Not lame, really. Being assistant manager at a dilapidated old record shop wasn't all that bad. It smelled a little weird, but you weren't suffering or anything. It paid well enough too, considering the number of people who actually bought records. At least you weren't stuck at a register at McDonald's dealing with late-night meth heads.

You let out a sigh and began flicking through channels again.

"But wait! If you buy-"

"Now, we just add a little pepper-"

"Things just cant get any worse-"


	2. Chapter 2

You flopped back on your bed with a huff. Why did he have to come in and try to strike up a conversation? You'd been giving him the cold shoulder for a damn long time now. Like, seriously. That shoulder is fucking  _frozen._ How could he stand to try and reach out and poke your goddamn glacierly arm hinge? Fucker's got to have some wicked mittens.

All in all though, you were acting like an ass to your bro. That wasn't your style at all. And honestly, you really  _felt_ like and ass every time you lashed out at him like an impudent whiny little shithead. 

But that was what you had to do, right?

Push away the root of the funk that was going through your head right now.

Yeah.

There was some pretty nasty stuff whirling through your trashcan of a brain as of late. Like,  _wrong_ stuff. You weren't about to drag Bro down with your hole-riddled ever-sinking ship. You were captain of this party boat. Not him.

Lucky bastard.

He'd probably steer this thing so much better than you. You were pretty damn sure you were about to capsize over here. Somebody call the goddamn coast guard. SOS. He'd know exactly how to go about everything without killing everybody in the process. Unlike you.

Seriously, you were fucking everything up. You made him  _sad._ Even though you know he'd never admit that to you. You saw the fucking heartbroken lip quiver. It wouldn't be surprising if you just up and decided to rip his heart out of his chest and just curb stomp it into the ground tomorrow.

What if you just... tried to pretend everything was normal? That you had developed the aforementioned gross/wrong/nasty thoughts? That you weren't some dweeb who had managed to develop some shitty cliche highschool-style crush on your bro... because that's fucking _weird._  Trip-to-the-psychiatrist kind of weird. You weren't about to pour your heart out to some balding middle-aged dude with a comb-over. Take that one right out of the suggestion box. Not that you were like... gay or anything. That'd be gross. Like, hell no. You liked chicks. Dudes like chicks. That's just a basic fuckin' fact. No bones about it, man. You weren't some fairy fruit cup  with a taste for  _men._ That'd be all kinds of gross, which you aren't. For the most part.

You'd play it cool. Just go about your business in your usual nonchalant manner and wait for the weird to blow over.

It'll pass, right?

It's just some creepy hormone-induced phase you were going through. Nothing serious. Perfectly normal.

Somebody knocked on the door.

 _Oh, right._ Bro had ordered pizza.

You'd do him a favor. After all, you were trying to go the born-again Christian route here. Make up for being suck a prick and all...

You snatched some cash off your desk and went to answer the door.

* * *

 

Something nudged your leg. You tried to will whatever it was away. You were busy. You had so much work to do and-

"Bro?"

You snapped to attention.

Shit. You'd fallen asleep. The pizza guy had probably come and hone, all pissed off when you didn't answer the-

Oh. Never mind.

The box was sitting on the table in front of you. You didn't remember getting the door or paying-

"You looked pretty content there in dreamland so I got the door for you."

Dave was sitting on the floor in front of you cross-legged, remote in hand.

"I took the liberty of changing the channel. I mean, unless you're suddenly in the mood to partake in the purchase of some hundred-year-old tea sets. I dunno if you've got enough money in your pocketbook though, Gramps. That shit was overpriced as hell. Eight thousand bucks for some ugly-as-fuck table. Like, hot damn. No thanks. I'll pass."

He was awfully chipper.

"If you're wondering, I paid with your money. Like I'd fork over my own poor piggy bank for the sake of some crap-tastic pizza."

Well, this was incredibly confusing. You were pretty sure he fucking despised you not half an hour ago.

He looked up at you. "You wanna watch a movie?"

You just stared at him, still utterly shocked.

"I'm down for whatever. Just nothing too outrageously stupid," he said.

You were at a loss for words. Seriously. What the fuck. That's not how people work. You can't just vacillate between Satan and Care Bear like nothing's up.

"Bro?"

He sounded almost... nervous.

Why would he be scared to talk to you?

He must be ashamed of his less-than-cool behavior. You'd probably act the same way if you were in his shoes.

He was looking at you expectantly.

Oh, damn. Right. He had asked you if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

You were walking through foreign territory now. Any little mistake on your part might set him off into brat mode again. This was a damn delicate situation and you had to handle it with white gloves and laser precision.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, man. Whatever you want's fine by me," you said quietly.

That sounded weird. You sounded weird. Your white gloves were more like grey and your laser precision could be more accurately described as shaking a flashlight around aimlessly. Maybe you could pass it off with a yawn like you were still half asleep.

You stretched you arms above your head but instead of a yawn, you made some kind of freaky hiccup-esque noise. _Shit_. What the hell was that? That was a royal fuck-up is what that was. Your body apparently wasn't prepared to cooperate with your mind. You glanced over at Dave and although he wasn't saying anything, it was quite apparent that he found your little mistake funny as hell. He was grinning all out like a complete idiot. You raised a brow and stared at him like that was exactly the sound you wanted to come out of your mouth. Who wouldn't want to make that fucking sound? No one. All the cool kids are doing it. It's become a fucking trend. It started out like some underground music group and then slowly blossomed into a gorgeous flower of vocal mastery. You were stupid.

Apparently, he got the message you were trying so hard to convey. He scurried off to go find a DVD.

Damn it. You were such a screw up.

By the end of the day he was probably going to go back to yelling for you to get out of his room. 

Or to leave him alone.

Or to go away.

You weren't all that sure of your ability to handle another couple months of near solitude. Much less likely were you going to be able to function normally with Dave throwing you all sorts of bad vibes.

Why'd you have to have a brother who's favorite hobby was preying on your only vulnerability: him. The kid meant the world to you. You wouldn't put up with anyone else's bullshit for that long. You fucking persevered through his month-long tantrum. It should be pretty clear to him that you loved the fucking shit out of his dumb, fucking stupid...

Your thoughts were starting to piss you off; you decided to stop thinking.

Apparently Dave had chosen a movie while you were busy being a pessimist. The beginning of _Finding Nemo_ was playing on the TV.

You hated the beginning. Watching a lady clownfish and the majority of her little fish babies get eaten by some freaky shark thing was like a dropkick to your feelings. _  
_

Dave sat down next to you. "Nemo's okay, right?"

You nodded.

You should probably warm up some shitty "touch the butt" jokes in honor of this cinematic masterpiece. Then again, Dave might overreact to whatever innuendo crap you'd try to pull. He seemed kinda jumpy, almost. As if he was expecting you to yell at him or something. You definitely didn't want him spiraling back down into whatever he had just gotten over. You decided to stay quiet.

 Dave decided to do the opposite. He was apparently going to talk through the entire flick, not that you minded. It was nice to have him talking to you again, even if it was during a movie.

"Man, this was my favorite movie when I was little, right? I haven't watched this in forever. That little squid chick is a bitch."

Conversation seemed kind of stilted on your behalf, but that didn't matter. His commentary began to die down once Nemo got to Sydney via pelican. Neither of you had touched the pizza. Dave had been too busy talking your ear off and honestly, you never really wanted pizza in the first place. It was just an excuse to bug Dave again. You'd probably just put it in the fridge and forget about it.

You heard Dave stifle a yawn. It wasn't late, was it? It should only be around four. He must have exerted himself _not_ being an ass to you.

But.. his head was on your shoulder. He was pretty much out for the count. 

You had no idea how to handle this.

Damn it.


	3. Chapter 3

You glanced down at Dave and, much to  your concern, he seemed to be... shivering? His breathing was kind of abnormal, too. You were pretty sure that was atypical, not that you've really witnessed his sleeping habits. So, he was either faking his impromptu nap (which made just zero sense to you) or, he was having some sort of nightmare. Well, the later definitely made more sense. Yeah, you'd go with that. He's probably dreaming about that fuckin' anglerfish. Thing's scary as shit.

 What were you supposed to do with a kid having a nightmare again? You wake them up, right? Or are you not supposed to bug them...or is that just for sleepwalkers? Shit, it's been forever since Dave's had a nightmare. Well, as far as you know. Waking him up was probably the best way to go... especially since he's kind of numbing your arm. Maybe you were supposed to give him some kind of awkward hug, though... Like you're trying to be some kind of warm, touchy-feely presence in whatever he's dreaming about. That'd probably be the better course of action, actually, considering that if you wake him up, he might just reward you with a reflexive punch to the stomach.

Yep, okay. Being the touchy-feely, yet still cool older brother. Easy. No problem. You've got this. You pulled your arm out from where it was wedged between you and Dave and wrapped it around his shoulders. There. Mission accomplished.

... Or not. Alright. Dave just decided to tense right the fuck up as soon as you touched him. Guess you weren't pulling off that whole soothing presence thing. Whelp. You tried. Only one remaining option. You'll just...

You stood abruptly, knocking Dave over. He scrambled into a sitting position and fixed you with a sort of... weird look. Like he just caught you checking his browser history or something.

He sat there gawking at you for a bit. "... Well, hey. You were making my arm fall asleep. Had to get out of there before you paralyze the rest of my limbs," you shrugged.

Now he was just going to make the conscious decision to ignore you in favor of the TV. Alright, fine. Apparently whatever polite spell he was under wasn't permanent. Looks like you've earned the cold shoulder once again. Not that you really cared, right? You weren't doing too good of a job warming up to Nice Dave anyways.

You stalked over to the kitchen. The ten dollars still lying on the counter caught your eye. You'd gotten it out to pay the pizza guy, as per usual. Dave said he'd paid, didn't he? Did he just decide to mug the fucking pizza guy?

"Hey, Dave?" He glanced over at you. "I thought you paid?"

He reddened. "Oh, uh. I did," he said, turning his attention back to the screen. So was that his confession to the assault of the delivery guy? 

"The money's still here...?" Seems like you're just going to be in a constant state of confusion.

When he turned back to you, he was giving you that weird look again. "Did you a favor," he muttered. He appeared to consider something for a moment. "You're welcome," he added. There was bratty undertone in his voice now. You sighed. What a little snot.

Still, it was pretty unlike him to actually pay for something with his own money, whatever mood he was in. He was always pretty tight-fisted, and now he was being tight-lipped. You weren't exactly fond of either quality.

You shuffled around the kitchen and opened the fridge, aimlessly looking through its contents. When you closed the door, you noticed Dave had apparently been in a pretty heated staring contest with the back of your head.

"Something you're itching to tell me lil' bro?"

Judging by the look on his face, you'd just effectively scared the shit out of him. A fuckin' constant state of confusion, you swear.

"W-what?" he stuttered. This was not the reaction you were expecting to your everyday friendly question. Was he actually hiding something from you? Did he seriously mug the pizza guy? If it was something important, he would've told you, right? He's not really the kind of kid that hides shit from you... well, as far as you know. It probably wasn't anything life-threatening, then. Hopefully. Besides, he was already acting kind of pissy; you wouldn't pry. Not yet, at least.

"Nevermind, dude," you waved him off. "Just saw you starin' me down, thought you wanted to tell me something."

"Oh... Okay." You practically saw the weight lift off his shoulders.

So, it's gotta be a pretty big secret. To Dave, at least. It's pretty hard to make him nervous, and you'll be damned if he wasn't bone-ass scared right then. Probably wasn't his intent, but he has, effectually, piqued your curiosity.

You figured you should reimburse him for all the stupid shit he's been pulling for that past couple months. He could handle a couple dick moves on your part. After all, he did owe you. Big time. You'd just make it your personal vendetta to get him to spill all these terrible things he was apparently hiding from you. A little brotherly revenge can't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter... Sorry. But hey, gotta love that unnecessary cliffhanger, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Getting Dave out of the house the next day was easy, probably because he wanted to get away from you ASAP. For some reason... Some reason that _you were going to find out._ Man, you felt fuckin' dangerous... But the kid has been skittish as a bird lately and you're _dying_ to know what's up with him. Maybe he was onto you... Nah, if he was, he wouldn't have left so willingly.

You had given him twenty bucks and told him to buy something nice. He responded with and awkward shrug of his shoulders and bolted without even saying goodbye. Rude as fuckin' ever.

You might be down twenty dollars, but shit if you weren't ecstatic as hell.  It was sorta exciting sneaking around your lil' bro's room, goin' all James Bond on this shit and snooping through his stuff all stealthy-like.You'd bet some serious money that he was hiding a pretty substantial gay porn collection from you. That'd sure as hell explain all this weird behavior. Kid's probably just feeling a little guilty about all his freaky hand-in-the-pants inspiration. 

The door to his room was shut. You crept inside like you were worried you were gonna get caught. Maybe you were. Maybe Dave had some kind of secret security system going on in his room. Next thing you know, he's going to rush through the door, phone in hand, ADT on the line. No, that'd be weird. Weird for Dave, even. You doubted he was actually expecting you to intrude on his personal area.  _Oh, wait._ No. Scratch that, brain. That sounded gross.

You were going to need a pretty air-tight lie for when you busted him. He's gonna want to know why you were sneaking around his room in the first place.

Well, moment of truth here. You got down on your hands and knees and looked under his bed. Well, shit. Look at that. Your old Space Invaders shirt. There you go. That's your lie. You'll be all ' _Hey, dude. So, I was looking for one of my shirts, and guess what I found in your room? ...Among other things.'_ Cue a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows for added effect.

You tossed the shirt out of his room and into the hallway. Man, he was gonna be mortified. This was going to be all kinds of great.

... Or maybe not. After about thirty minutes of rooting through Dave's personal shit, you came up empty handed. You decided it was time to give up looking for anything tangible. You turned to his computer. It was unlocked.

This was it. Here we go... and...

Nothing.  _What in the fuck._  You looked through all the folders on his desktop again... Nope. His browser history... Cleared. What the  _fuck._ Dave was ruining all your precise plotting for this premium revenge with all his first class brother-proofing. You checked his folders again... _Still_ nothing you'd overlooked.

So what was he hiding from you then? Why the hell was he being a complete ass to you? He wouldn't just act like that without a reason. You know your bro, and he's not _that_ much of a dick. There's gotta be something.

 _Well,_ no. There doesn't  _need_  to be something. Whatever he's hiding from you isn't actually required for you to be able to pull off your little plan. You can just employ that old shitty sitcom trick and get him to fess up without directly telling him that you know... that you know about whatever it is he's managed to keep secret from you for so damn long.

Now you've just got to wait for him to get home.

* * *

 

You got back 'round six - not too late, not too early. The perfect time to slip through the door, completely casual.

You'd wasted about four hours in the mall, sitting by yourself in the food court, staring down a couple of tacos from the nasty Mexican place. You're not all that sure as to why you bought them. You'd never even touched them. You figured you were looking kinda suspicious, too. All sweating and glancing around like you were waiting for a bomb to go off something. A couple of security guys started hanging around, keeping a particularly distrustful eye aimed at you.

At that point, you decided to book it and leave.

And here you were, turning the key in the lock of the door to your crappy too-small apartment that had the eternal stink of asbestos and cheap candles.

Bro practically jumped when he heard you open the door. _Shit_. Shit shit shit. Okay. No worries. He was probably sleeping and you woke him up or whatever. He was sitting on the couch, Spongebob screeched a hideous cackle in the background - Probably a sign of your impending doom, the demonic laughter of everyone's favorite shitty driver. He turned to you. Yep. There it is. Your inevitable damnation. There was a look on his face, though. You knew that look. It was the I'm-probably-going-to-do-something-stupid-but-I'm-trying-to-play-it-cool look. Not good. Nope. Maybe you should just sprint out the door and back to the mall to pick up where you left off, making people nervous with your flighty attitude.

"Hey, Dave."  _Fuck._ Too late. You've been trapped. You gave him a simple nod of greeting and tried to make your way towards your room.

"No, wait, man."  _Fuck!_ Nope. Keep on walking...

"I was looking for one of my shirts earlier and I was checking around in your room..."  _What?_  You stopped dead in your tracks.

"I found it, but, I uh, stumbled upon something rather...  _unsettling_ while I was hunting," he raised his eyebrows at you.

You blinked at him.

"You going to confess?"  _Shit._ No. Nope. No way.

"Well?" You were pretty sure some kind of invisible pyromaniac had just run by you and lit you on fire. He was waiting for you to say it.  _To say it out loud._ He saw it. He  _knew._ You knew your dirty little goddamn secret. There was no Wikihow page on how to get out of something like this. Fuck  _you._ You're  _fucked._

"I... um," you had absolutely no idea how to go about saying this.

"I... I don't," you looked around for an escape route... but he  _knew._ There wasn't going to be any getting out of this. He wasn't letting up. You're going to have to say it. Admit to your sins.

"I swear I don't... I don't like you in.. in  _that_ way anymore. I swear," you put your hands up. This was your surrender. You prepared to get kicked out onto the street...

"You...  _what?"_

Holy fucking  _shit. He didn't know._

_But he knew now._

The jig was up.

You just royally fucked up.

Big time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this is going to have a happy ending or not?  
> Maybe.  
> Probably not....  
> ... What do you guys think?


End file.
